


What a Man

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln, a corset and a pair of manly, blue jeans. Woof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Man

Lincoln Burrows was all man. That was the word in the streets. He'd smash your teeth in if you offended him, and he'd steal your girlfriend if she had big enough breasts. She wouldn't be able to resist his pecs anyway. He drank beer or straight booze, no drinks or wine for him, thank you very much; he was the leader of the pack and the biggest bull in the ring.

Lincoln Burrows looked good in denims and leather jackets. He knew he did. That's why he always wore blue denim jeans that showcased his physique, and half-opened shirts that emphasized his muscle and broad shoulders.

Everybody knew Lincoln Burrows; one hundred percent manly muscle and testosterone.

Nobody knew Lincoln Burrows with his jeans and black leather jacket discarded on the bed, admiring his bulky frame in the mirror – covered in silk and lace. Black satin stay-up stockings with lace edges, blue garter belt, a corset he could barely get laced around his stocky chest...

“My God, Lincoln, how hot can you get!”

He turned to face Derek, grinning self-consciously. “You get off on this, don't you, you kinky bastard.”

He'd never pass for a woman, even if he did put on a wig and make-up and women's clothing. He was too tall, too bulky, too manly in every other respect. But he could wear the underwear. And Derek _did_ get off on it.

“It's just wrong, but you're so hot,” Derek said, looking appraisingly at Lincoln. “How about it? Want to go out like this?”

Lincoln stared at him. “You crazy?”

“With clothes on,” Derek explained quickly. He didn't want Lincoln to punch him again, like he'd done the first time he suggested he put on the underwear. “Just with that underneath them.”

“Okay,” Lincoln grinned, pulling on his jeans again. “But just because I owe you.”

They always owed each other, somehow or other. This time, Lincoln was in debt because Derek had been his wingman in a grubby bar where Lincoln had been allowed to leave with the only hot chick there. Derek got stuck with her skanky friend.

“But then you'll owe me for when we get home,” Lincoln reminded him.

“Sure.”

They went out. Sat in a bar, talking and joking around, for a couple hours, spending about fifty bucks on beer. Lincoln could drink a lot of beer when he was drinking. Women came up to them, batting their eyelashes, and Lincoln bought them a drink, but didn't invite them home. Neither did Derek, although he had to fob off far fewer than Lincoln.

“It's time for you boys to be getting home,” the bartender said after their umpteenth pint. “Don't want any trouble in my bar.”

Lincoln grinned and got up, slapping a few dollars down on the counter. “Thanks, Joe.”

Derek followed suit and soon they were stumbling through the streets towards Lincoln's dingy flat, trying to walk straight despite the beer floating through their brains. Shortly after they stumbled into the tiny living room, and Derek took his jacket off. “Couch?”

“That's where you'll be sleeping,” Lincoln agreed, loosing his own jacket and kicking off his shoes. “'Night.”

Derek blinked, surprised, but didn't argue and pulled out the only blanket in the room, preparing to curl up on the old couch. Usually Lincoln collected his debt in a very un-manly way, as far as Derek was concerned, but the other man was already getting undressed in his room and Derek shrugged. They had a very casual relationship.

“Hey! You owe me,” Lincoln suddenly called, as if only just remembering. He came back in the living room from the adjoining bedroom, and Derek had to stare at him.

He'd taken off his shirt and was now wearing only jeans and the underwear. The corset's lace hem was just visible above the lining of the jeans, looking so fucking gorgeously feminine in contrast to Lincoln's hips in those jeans.

“Shit, man, you're so fucking sexy in that thing,” Derek heard himself say, admiring the other man. He was a perfect blend of all man and dirty, secret pretend-woman.

“Good, 'cause you owe me,” Lincoln grinned, opening the button in his jeans. “Pay up.”

Seconds later, Derek had Lincoln against the wall, yanking his jeans down over his hips, kneeling in front of the steamy blend of black lace and blue denim. He himself preferred hand-jobs because he was so turned on by the size and texture of Lincoln's hands, but Lincoln wanted a wet mouth and he was very verbal about it.

“Suck it, Derek,” he panted, placing a hand at the back of his friend's head. “Come on.”

“No hands,” Derek insisted, then let his hands run over all the fabric he could reach. Holy shit, Lincoln was totally hot in drag.

No, not in drag; only in a black lace corset and a pair of über-manly blue denim jeans.


End file.
